Red VS Blue: Legacy of the Lost
by calazar
Summary: The Reds and Blues of Blood Gulch Canyon fight each other on a daily basis, but their relatively simple lives take a turn when newcomers come to their little canyon. But they are only part of a larger plot to find something that was lost, something a shadowy organization will stop at nothing to take for themselves.
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to Blood Gulch

Red Vs Blue: Legacy of the Lost

Episode One: Welcome to Blood Gulch

Disclaimer and announcements: This story is co-opted with The-Stupidest-Author-Ever and any OCs you see are hers. We do not own Red Vs Blue but are simply messing around with its plot and characters.

 _Dear Director,_

 _According to my intelligence, I am aware that your Project Freelancer is in possession of a valuable… asset. However, there has been negligence in its responsibility, when I believe it will help us end this war. Now, if I have been told correctly, this asset currently resides in the Blood Gulch Simulation Ground. I also understand the results of your "Freelancer" program have been satisfactory, especially your agents' recent elimination of rebel activity. Therefor, I will be sending in a team of your mercenaries to monitor this asset, and retrieve it if need be. Should they encounter problems, then it would also be an excellent time to test their combat readiness._

The sky was crystal blue as far as the eye could see, stretching in every direction until it touched the endless ocean below. A single sun was in the sky, gleaming a brilliant yellow. It would have blinded the two pilots as they flew across the sky if they had not had the shades of their helmets. The two seater Sabre-class starfighter soared through the sky, exhaust fuel trailing behind it.

"Do you think that we'll be able to find the asset quickly?" Agent Tex asked. He heard a laugh from his partner, the co-pilot.

"Why? Do you have a hot date waiting for you back at headquarters?" Agent California asked.

"No, just making sure you get back in time for that pilates class," Tex bit.

"Nah, I quit those a long time ago," Cal laughed, turning his head to look at his partner.

Tex only rolled his eyes behind his shiny black helmet. Suddenly a beeping sound filled his helmet, making him glance at his radar. They had arrived. The soldiers could already see their destination ahead. A great island spread out before them, with giant earthen walls. Tex heard Cal report into Command through the radio.

"Recovery Three calling Command, come in Command," he said

"We read you Recovery Three," the operator responded in a nasally voice.

"Alpha One, we have arrived at the Blood Gulch simulation ground," Cal said. "Preparing to land. Over."

"Yep, loud and clear. Let us know how it goes down there. ...And maybe grab a bag of chips while you're down there. Kinda hungry up here."

"Um… okay."

"Roger that, over and out."

"Recovery Three, out."

The agents both wore confused glances at the unorthodox nature of Blood Gulch Command. He certainly wasn't like any of the officers they spoken to. Hopefully they wouldn't have to communicate with him much. Agent Cal spotted a landing sight not too far off from the target zone and pointed it out to Tex. The black-armored Freelancer landed the Sabre by the side of a rocky cliff, sand flying into the air in all directions. The loud roar of the starfighter softened to a hum and then died altogether. By the time the dust settled, the two Freelancers' boots dug into the loosened dirt.

The intense sun burned their dark armor, but neither felt the heat. They clipped their assault rifles on their backs and pulled out their pistols. With an exchange of looks, Agent Tex took point, leading towards a dark crevice into the rock wall, slipping through it into a narrow tunnel. The pair wedged their way through the darkness, pausing when they made it to the other side.

"Well, it looks like we're here," Tex announced.

Stretched out before them was a large canyon. The same walls that had greeted them on their descent surrounded them, touching the sky above. The floor of the expanse rolled into hills of dirt and dull grass, looking baked underneath the unforgiving sun. The landscape was completely desolate, only towering boulders filling the empty fields. In the distance, Agent Tex narrowed his eyes at a gleaming steel structure. Apparently that was one of the local forts.

He allowed Agent Cal take the lead as they began to trek through the hilly terrain towards their destination. Their dark-colored armor was a sharp contrast against luscious green and light brown that made up the canyon. It was this fact that alerted the occupants of the canyon to the newcomers' presence.

* * *

On the south side of the canyon, a Red army soldier in yellow armor was observing the expanse of Blood Gulch from the roof of his base, when he noticed movement in the corner of his vision. He quickly brought his customised SRS99 sniper rifle to his eye. He looked through and spotted two figures stalking across the canyon, heading north.

"Uh, Sarge," Corporal Andrew Snyder called over his shoulder, keeping the two figures in his sights. "We may have a situation up here."

Immediately, a man in polished red armor rushed from the interior of the base and onto the roof, running up to Snyder and his partner, a Private First Class wearing dull maroon armor by the name of Richard Simmons. The man in bright red armor carried a shotgun, that Snyder was sure he slept with. An air of authority surrounded him, enough for his subordinates to respect him. Well, most of the time, at least.

"What's the problem, soldier?" Sarge asked, a southern accent lining his words. "Are the Blues up to something?"

Snyder looked through his scope again, watching the slow progress of the two figures making their way across the canyon. He zoomed in a little to get a clearer image of them and could clearly make out their armor color and armements. One was wearing solid black armor and carried an assault rifle and had a pistol strapped to their hip. The other one wore the same dark armor, but crimson red stripes were painted on their helmet and shoulder pads. They too carried an assault rifle strapped to their back, holding a pistol.

"Uh, no, sir. It looks like two Special Ops soldiers," Snyder reported. "They're headed for the Blue base and fully equipped for combat. Should I shoot them or what?"

"Are you crazy, soldier?!" Sarge exclaimed. "Don't shoot them! Don't you see? Command has obviously recognized what a great commander I am and accepted my request to fight off these Blue bastards. Those men are here to help us." Simmons cocked his head to the side, thinking about his superior's words. He eventually turned to look at Sarge.

"But, sir, as intelligent and profound as that idea is, what if those Special Ops guys are here to help the Blues?" he asked. "In fact, it's just as likely that they're here to kill us."

"Holy hell! You're right, Simmons!" Sarge exclaimed, making his fellow Reds cringe at the sudden volume. "We need to send someone to spy on them and figure out what their true intentions are."

"Not it!" Snyder and Simmons both said at the same time after looking at each other for a second.

"Excellent!" Sarge said proudly. "You'll both be going."

"Fuck!" both Reds swore at the same time.

"Now get going!"

"Yes, sir."

Realizing they didn't have a choice, they both leaped off the roof onto the canyon floor. It was only thanks to their modified armor that they could accomplish such a feat. The Red soldiers sighed as they began to trudge across the barren ground.

* * *

On the opposite side of the canyon, Private First Class Leonard Church stood on top of Blue base, alert for any attacks from the Reds. As if there ever was. He had pulled guard duty this week and would see it through, even though it was the second worst job in the barracks (first being bathroom duty). But doing this was becoming increasingly difficult, as Church's turquoise-armored teammate kept shouting up to him about something that was "awesome."

"Come on, Church!" Private Second Class Lavernius Tucker shouted up at him. "You have to see this."

"I can't," the pale blue-armored soldier shouted back, not bothering to look in his direction. "I'm on guard duty. Or did you forget?"

"Church you _really_ need to see this," a green-armored soldier called up to his superior. Private Jack Wilson stood beside Tucker, admiring the newest addition to the Blue Army's arsonal. "I mean, when was the last time you saw a tank?"

"Ugh, I said-wait. Did you say a _tank_?" Church gasped. Without a second thought, he ran across the roof to look down at his fellow Blues.

Sure enough, a giant M808B Main Battle Tank took up the space next to the fort, easily half the size of the broad building. It had four separate all-terrain treads, each having a makeshift "seat" on top. The center held the cockpit for the driver, underneath a giant barrel easily longer than a man. A barrel that was capable of sending 90mm tungsten shell almost at the speed of sound.

"This here is 66 tons of straight-up, H.E.-spewin', dee-vine intervention!" Wilson cheered proudly, badly mimicking the Red commander's accent.

"Yeah, Command dropped it off when they dumped our supplies for the month," Tucker said, never taking his eyes off the giant tank.

"I'll be right down," Church said after a few seconds of consideration.

He ran down the ramp that ran off the roof of the base to the outside. He quickly joined his comrades admiring the grey monstrosity that was now theirs. After a few minutes of staring in complete silence, Wilson shook his head and looked at Church and Tucker, who were still gazing.

"Soo... what's the catch?" he asked.

"What did you say?" Tucker asked, almost dreamily. Church turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked

"What's the catch?" Wilson repeated, gesturing to the tank. "We've been out here in the ass-end of nowhere for years and this is the first time Command had given us anything other than basic rations. Why?"

"Well, there was a new recruit who helped me load the supplies in the base," Tucker replied, still not looking away from the tank. His voice shifted back into the dreamy state it had previously been in as his mind shifted back to fantasies about the tank. "I wonder how many girls I can pick up in this thing."

"Dude, we're in a canyon in the middle of nowhere," Wilson pointed out. "There are no girls."

"Hey, Tucker, did this new recruit tell you his name?" Church asked, ignoring his comrade's comment.

"Yeah, yeah," Tucker said, ignoring both of them, practically drooling in his helmet.

"Ugh, just great," Church groaned, rolling his eyes. He turned to Wilson. "We're not getting anything out of him for awhile. Go see if you can find this new recruit, before he wanders too close to the Reds and gets himself killed. I'll do what I can to drag lover boy over here away from our tank."

Wilson nodded and ran back into the base. Church turned back to Tucker and briefly considered hitting him over the head with his rifle, but quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, he had a better one. Church turned around and began casually walking back to the base, not even looking over his shoulder.

"Oh, well, I'll guess I'll head back to base," he called in an overly-narrative voice. "Shame all we had was this tank. I heard the Reds got some chicks on their team. But, we're just fine hanging out here, by ourselves, in our base… But, hey, if you want to stare at a useless piece of junk all day-"

Church trailed off and looked over his shoulder to see if he got a reaction, knowing women was Tucker's weakness. He would certainly have a comment on that and the soldier could knock some sense into him. Instead, the playboy had disappeared.

"What the-?" Church whirled around and frantically scanned the area, only for his stomach to drop when he saw the retreating form of Tucker, who was sprinting at full speed towards the Red base.

"Well done, Church, well done," he muttered to himself sarcastically, starting to stalk back onto the roof.

There was no hope of stopping the teal soldier now. Besides, once he got to the Red Base, it wouldn't take him long to run right back. Church sighed as he returned to his post, making sure to track his comrade's progress through the scope of his rifle.

"This is right up there with that time you stood around like an idiot when the girl you used to date killed every one right in front of you." he continued to grumble

* * *

Inside the base, Wilson searched for this mysterious new recruit that Tucker had told him about. He didn't find him until he heard several bangs coming from the armory and repeated "ow" sounds. Cocking an eyebrow, the Blue slowly entered the room. He was greeted with the sight of a man in dark, regulation blue armor. Surrounding him were crates of weapons and supplies, but instead of the neat piles Wilson spent all morning organizing, the boxes were scattered all over the place. Several were spilled open, leaving their contents scattered all over the floor. Covering the stranger's head was a small box, giving him a ridiculous appearance. Wilson's eyes widened in horror.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed as he looked around the room. The stranger's boxed-head turned, but in the opposite direction of Wilson's position.

"What? The boxes did it! They're evil and attacked me! It's dark in here!" the man explained hurriedly.

He tried to walk towards the sound of Wilson's voice, but was instead nearing a wall. Before the Blue soldier could give a shout of warning, the recruit tripped over a box and slammed his face into the wall. Wilson cringed underneath his helmet as the man let out a shout of pain.

"Ow! Who did that? Why are the boxes so mean?!" he demanded, the sheer volume of his voice making Wilson wince again.

"So you must be the new recruit," he sighed.

"Who said that?"

"Private Jack Wilson. Nice to meet you."

"...Are you a box?"

Wilson groaned. Rather than answering the man, he went over to his pathetic form and ripped the box from his head, revealing a helmet underneath. Yep, certainly the new recruit. Before Wilson could assist the man up, the man leaped to his feet, nearly knocking the private onto the floor himself. The Blue soldier couldn't help but lean back in surprise… and at the fact that the recruit was still yelling.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! You saved me!" he exclaimed, before suddenly dropping to a suspicious tone. "Wait… Are you working with the boxes?" Wilson sighed again.

"No…I'm not working with the boxes," he groaned. "I'm on Blue team, just like you-regrettably. And you are…?"

"Oh! My name is Michael J. Caboose! ...Or you could just call me Caboose. Everyone else does. Except for my mother, she's-"

"Oh-kay," Wilson quickly interrupted, already annoyed by the man's rambling. "Glad to know. Mind telling me what hap-you know what, I don't wanna know. How about I just show you around?"

"That would be nice," the recruit chirped. There was a pause before he gasped, "Hey, would you like to be my friend?"

"No," Wilson deadpanned, already hating his life.

* * *

 _Dear Chairman,_

 _I can assure that no such asset has been neglected and find your concern unfounded. My simulation grounds are constantly being monitored by the finest analysts under my command. The data we retrieve from them could possibly change the outcome of the war we find ourselves in. I am insulted that you would accuse me with of such a severe oversight. I would also like to point out that my Freelancers are meant for operations that would change the outcome of the war, not to monitor something that does not exist. As such, I would rather you not waste my time or the time of my Freelancers. But should anything pressing come up, I would like you to notify me at the earliest opportunity._

Sarge stood on the roof of the Red base, looking towards the direction Simmons and Snyder went. They had disappeared over a hill along with the Special Ops soldiers. Instead of feeling concerned, the Red commander sniffled as pride overwhelmed him.

"Such brave warriors. Going out to the great unknown for their fellow comrades," he praised. "I trained them so well."

"Um, excuse me, sir?" a voice said behind him.

"Don't interrupt me, I'm having a moment!"

"Sarge, I got someone to introduce you to," a second voice added.

"Sheesh, such a drama queen," a third one snickered.

"Ugh, Grif, haven't I told you not to interrupt me when I'm thinking about respectable soldiers such as Snyder and Simmons?" Sarge asked, turning to face the trio of soldiers. "And Lancaster, shut your goddamned mouth."

The dark crimson-armored man snickered again, but said nothing. Next to him stood a man in orange armor. Behind them both was a man who stood slightly shorter than Sarge with the exact same colored armor as the Red commander. The southern-accented leader looked over the man who looked exactly like him and flinched.

"Who on God's green earth is this?" Sarge asked.

"Private Donut, sir, reporting for duty," the stranger introduced.

"Private… Donut…."

"Yes, sir."

There was a long pause as Sarge simply stared at the man. Suddenly he turned to Grif, growling, "You had something to do with this, didn't you?"

"What? What did I do?" the orange-armored man cried.

"I'm the new recruit Command sent, sir?" Donut interrupted.

"Oh, yeah…" Sarge realized. "They did say something about that. ...I think."

"Yeah. I came to deliver the new vehicle you ordered, sir."

"What the-? I didn't order any new vehicle," Sarge said, confused.

"Actually, sir, you did," Lancaster replied. "About two weeks ago."

"Oh, right," Sarge said. "Well then, we should go down and name it!"

"Uh, name it, Sarge?" Grif echoed.

"What are you waiting for, men?!"

Without waiting for another reply, the commander leaped off the roof in a single bound, sprinting away.

"Um, sir! The vehicle's the other way!" Donut called. Sarge skidded to a halt, spun on his heels, and sprinted towards the opposite direction.

"I knew that!" he said almost sheepishly. Grif and Lancaster groaned before following him, Donut trailing behind. They journeyed to the back of the base, where they immediately skidded to a halt.

"Whoa…" Grif breathed.

Before them was four-wheeled vehicle covered with steel plating. It had no roof, having the cockpit exposed with a large machine gun turret loaded on it's back. Sarge was already admiring it, turning to his subordinates when they arrived.

"May I introduce our new light reconnaissance vehicle," Sarge announced. "It has four inch armor plating, mag-lift suspension, a mounted machine gun turret and total seating for three. Perfect for our army."

"But sir with Donut, there are six of us now," Grif pointed out.

"Exactly! Me, Simmons, and Snyder can ride in it while trying to run over you two," Sarge said excitedly. "And Donut here can give us directions...should we need them."

"And what exactly is 'it?'" Lancaster asked.

"Well, the Warthog, of course!" Sarge replied.  
"Warthog? Where the hell did you get that?" Grif asked.

"Because, dirtbag, it has these two towing hooks at the front and they look like tusks. Now what animal on earth has tusks?" Sarge explained angrily.

"A walrus," Lancaster deadpanned.

"A hippo," Grif said with an equal uninterest.

"You're making that up," Sarge snapped.

"In my opinion, if anything, it looks like a puma," Lancaster suggested.

"Yeah, your right," Grif said. "If you squint your eyes it kinda does."

"Now you're just making up fantasy creatures!"

"No, it's a big cat," Donut insisted. "You've never heard it of it?"

"It's a Warthog!"

"Puma," Lancaster snapped.

"Warthog!"

"Puma."

"Wart-"

Suddenly their bickering was interrupted by a high-pitched scream echoing across the canyon. It made the Reds flinch and looked wildly around for the source.

"The hell was that?" Donut demanded.

"Son of a bitch!" Sarge gasped. "It's Snyder!"

* * *

"Yeah, I got sights on them," Snyder reported as he peered through the scope of his DMR. It wasn't his favorite weapon, but whenever Sarge decided to send him on reconnaissance mission, whether it may be for Blues or random Special Ops soldiers, it was a useful tool.

"What are they doing?" Simmons asked, using a harsh whisper.

"Walking towards the Blue base. And you can talk normally. They can't hear us."

Snyder went back to his scope, seeing the pair of strangers sprint away from them. Damn, they were fast. However only a second later, Simmons spoke up again, not raising his voice.

"What are they doing now?" he asked.

"Oh, for the love of God," Snyder groaned, putting down his scope. "Let's just follow them before we lose 'em."

Not waiting for his partner, Snyder shot away, racing after the trespassers. Unfortunately the Reds' armor stuck out against the canyon's colors, but as long at their prey didn't turn around, they wouldn't be spotted. Thanks to his gun's scope, the soldier could see the Special Ops clearly, only for them to disappear over a hill up ahead. Fair enough. It meant the strangers couldn't see them, either-and that hill could be a good spot to spy on their destination.

Simmons following on his heels, the scout crossed the plains, slowing his pace when he got to the bottom of the hill. They slowly climbed to the top until they could see what was going on on the other side of the hill. When Snyder saw the barren plains that greeted him, he blinked.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed. "They're gone!"

"What? They can't be gone! They were just there!" Simmons yelped.

" _Come on_."

Throwing caution into the wind, the Reds raced down the hill, where the Special Ops _should_ have been. Snyder paused and looked around, confused. Nothing.

"Where could they go?" he demanded. "There's nowhere to go!"

Suddenly he flinched at a scraping noise. Before Snyder could find the source, a lone, loose stone the size of his fist rolled between the two Reds. Both men stared at it for a solid minute before Simmons finally broke the silence.

"Did you throw that rock?" he asked.

"No," Snyder replied. "Did you throw that rock?"

"Nope." Both Reds looked up at each other and came to the same conclusion at the same time.

"Oh, _fuck_!" they swore.

They turned around and saw the two Special Ops soldiers standing in front of them with assault rifles pointed at their heads. Both Reds stood stock still, afraid to move.

"I blame you for this," Simmons said angrily.

"How am I to blame?" Snyder asked.

"Shut up, both of you," the grey and red one growled in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Why are you following us?" the black one demanded. If his partner's voice was deep, his was impossibly so.

"We come in peace," Snyder joked, using a robotic voice.

"Shut up, you idiot," Simmons snapped.

"Oh my God, they're _already_ annoying me," the black one moaned.

"How about we kill them?" his buddy asked. "We could blame a rock slide. No one would know the difference."

"Hmm, good point. Shall we?"

Without warning, the black one charged at Snyder at an impossible speed. The Red let out a yelp, even squeezing the trigger of his DMR. However the stranger easily dodged the bullet and ducked underneath his weapon. The Special Ops snatched his gun and shoved it out of the way, twisting around at the same moment. He landed a brutal punch at Snyder's gut, right between the armor plating. The Red gasped as all the wind was knocked out of him and doubled over. Before he could collapse on the ground, the man twisted again, bringing his captive's arm along with it. Snyder whined when his limb was bent twisted painfully, but it was cut off when the Special Ops raised the man over his head and slammed him into the ground-only using his arm.

Simmons had no time to help his comrade. He glanced at the black soldier pouncing on his friend, but only when he looked back to the second stranger, he was greeted with a fist to his helmet. The impact shattered his visor. Simmons wailed in shock and pain as his head snapped back. He felt his arm being grabbed and soon found himself face-first in the dirt with his arm held in a painful position behind his back.

"Hey, come on, let me go," the poor Red begged.

"If you say so," his captor replied.

With one hand still on his twisted arm, the Special Ops snatched his neck. He stood up and whirled around, lifting Simmons off the ground. The Red wailed as he was spun around, only to go-literally-flying through the air. He crashed onto another nearby hill, only to roll over its crest and tumble head-over-heels… Right into a man in turquoise armor who was running straight for the fight.

"Hey, watch it!" the new guy said as he toppled over with Simmons.

The two soldiers picked themselves up and picked up their weapons. The Blue looked over at the fight that was progressing between Snyder and the black soldier.

"So what'd you guys do to piss them off?" he asked as Simmons caught his breath, the grey one watching them.

"We were following them," Simmons panted, hands on his knees.

"Hey, I know this might be a bad time, but do you have any chicks at your base?" the blue soldier asked. Simmons turned his head to look at him, taking his attention off of the grey Special Ops soldier.

"No, we do no-" he started before a high-pitched scream pierced through the air.

Both soldiers snapped their heads towards the noise only to see Snyder hunched over himself, holding his crotch in pain, as the black Special Ops soldier crouched, his fist still raised level with the Red's sensitive area.

"Ooww…" the yellow soldier gasped and collapsed onto his side, falling like someone had shoved him.

"Ooh, that had to hurt," Tucker winced.

"You think?" Simmons retorted.

"Help," Snyder croaked, coming as a barely audible squeak.

"One down, two to go," the black Special Ops growled, taking his assault rifle from his back and aiming it at the man's head.

The stranger just placed his finger on the trigger when suddenly, a loud, obnoxious tune filled the air. The black soldier perked his head up, distracted by the noise. Meanwhile his partner looked around, trying to find the source. It sounded like it was coming… closer.

"What the heck is that?" Simmons asked, speaking what was on everyone's mind. Tucker only glanced at him and shrugged.

Simmons wished he hadn't asked when the answer came. Suddenly a roar of an engine filled the air, almost drowned by the intolerable noise. Suddenly, a greyish-green vehicle flew over one of the small hills that surrounded the group of soldiers. As the turret truck landed, Simmons heard loud whoops and cheers coming from the cockpit of the vehicle. The armored jeep flew through the air… right towards the red and grey Special Ops soldier.

Simmons just barely heard him curse as the man noticed the incoming vehicle. The Red was convinced that the special ops soldier was going to be plowed over, but then he did something unexpected, making everyone's eyes widen.

Just when one of the vehicle's hooks was an inch from the soldier's thigh, the man bent his knees and leaped straight up into the air. He turned horizontally in midair, spinning at a dizzying speed. He just barely stayed above the car as it swept under him. The soldier flipped midair again, landing where the jeep had once been in a crouch, legs spread across the ground and a fist planted in the dirt for balance. It had all happened in a second, and Simmons and Tucker stared, still unsure if what they saw was real. The black Special Ops didn't even glance at his partner, instead following the strange vehicle as it skidded to a stop. Simmons couldn't believe what he saw.

"Sarge?!" he gasped.

"Goddammit grif, who the hell taught you how to drive?" Sarge said from the passenger seat.

"It's not as easy as it looks, okay?!" Grif retorted. "Why are there six pedals and only four directions?"

"Well, this just gets better and better," the red and grey one commented, rising from his crouch.

"Simmons! Don't just stand there daydreaming!" Sarge snapped. "Get over here and man the gun!"

"Yeah! Come on, dude!" Lancaster yelled as he hopped out of the turret spot.

"Right!" Simmons yelped as he gripped the handles. He turned the triple barrel towards the black soldier over his comrade, but the large machine was heavy. How was he ever going to fire it? He gulped and shouted, "Open fire!"

* * *

 _Dear Director,_

 _While I know that your organization has helped the war effort immensely, I would like to remind you that no one is above scrutiny in this time of conflict. However, your point is well made and while normally I would pull out the squad I have sent to the simulation grounds, I have received some distressing information. It appears that the shadow organization has gotten ahold of some of your project's data and replicated your work, to a degree. My reports also indicate that a large squad has landed near the Blood Gulch simulation ground. With their superior numbers, your freelancers may have an advantage and be able to send us more data on the organization. Until such a time arrives, I will refrain from meddling in the affairs of your organization._

"What do you mean, you don't know how to drive it?" Church demanded.

"What other meaning is there?" Wilson snapped back. "It's not like it comes with a start button or a manual!"

"Great! So we're stuck with a tank that nobody knows how to use?"

"Oh, oh! Why don't we ask it if it has a tutorial?" Caboose asked with his hand raised like he was in school.

"Sure, go talk to it all you want," Church drawled, walking back to the roof. "I'll be on the roof."

"I guess I'll come with you," Wilson said.

Both Blues moved to head towards the ramp that led to the upper level of the base, but stopped when a familiar sound filled the air, echoing off the canyon walls from a distant part of the battlefield. Gunfire.

But instead of the familiar sounds of an assault rifle or DMR, the shots sounded deep, constant. Like a machine gun. And a big one.

"Well, that can't be good," Wilson said. "Do you think the Reds have turned against each other?"

"No way we would be that lucky," Church said, starting to move up the ramp. Only when he made it to the roof, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, _shit_! Tucker! I forgot all about him!"

"What? What about tucker?" Wilson asked, panicked.

"I told Tucker that there were chicks at the Red base to get him to stop staring at the tank and he sped off. We've been working on the tank so I forgot. That's probably him that's getting shot at. Fuck! How could I be so stupid?"

"Why would you tell him that?"

"To get the stupid loser to stop staring at the tank! I didn't think he would be _that_ much of a loser! Just come on!" The man meant to run towards the sounds, but halt before he leaped off the roof, turning to Caboose. "Caboose, stay here, guard the tank. And whatever you do, _do not_ touch it."

"Okay!" the man called from the ground.

Church and Wilson jumped off the roof, landing square on their feet and taking off at a sprint.

* * *

Tex rolled behind a rock just before the bullets hit him. Why Command had decided that then was the time to upgrade the simulation's weaponry he would never know. he looked around for Cal only to see him running full sprint for a rock a few feet to Tex's left.

" _Kill them,"_ Omega hissed in his head.

"And how do you suggest I do that?" he growled as a black, shadowy hologram appeared appeared in front of him.

" _Their gun will jam in three seconds,"_ Omega replied gleefully. " _Shoot them."_

Tex lept up from behind him cover and raised her rifle, aiming for the helmet of the marron soldier, only to come face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.

"Wrong move, dirtbag," the bright red soldier holding the shotgun said. He pulled the trigger of the gun, only to have a resonating _click_. "Huh? Goddammit, Grif! You slacked on your duties again."

"I did?" the orange soldier asked.

"Of course you did. It was your job to pack the ammo and load the guns this week," his commander retorted, turning to the slacker.

Meanwhile, Tex straightened, slightly amused. His opponent turned back to him just as he adjusted his stance.

"Oh... hell," Sarge swore right as the freelancer acted.

Without warning, the Freelancer snatched the barrel of the gun in a blink of an eye. He landed a sucker punch at the man's jaw, snapping his neck back and sending him flying across the ground. Without even watching the end result of his attack, Tex whirled around, spinning the barrel of the shotgun in his hand. The result was slamming the butt of the gun in the yellow soldier's chin, who had just risen from the ground after recovering from the torture Tex had put him through. He let out a loud yell of pain, but before he could react, the black soldier spun the weapon again to slam it into his gut. He doubled over, only for Tex to send a series of punches at his head. The Freelancer ended the brutality by kicking his shin, collapsing his leg, and sending an elbow into his helmet, knocking him out cold.

With two down, the soldier spun around, just in time to hear the roar of the machine gun. Reacting quickly, Tex repositioned his hold on the gun like it was an oversized knife. He threw it at the gunner of the machine gun, nailing him in the head just before he could take aim at the Freelancer. The gunner fell to the ground with a yelp, his fall turning the turret to where it shot the crimson-armored soldier in the leg, making him collapse and yell in pain.

"Oh, fuck this!" the orange one cursed, jumping out of the Warthog's driver seat. He glanced at the teal soldier that was just watching the fight, obviously having no interest. "You! Help me!"

"Fuck that!" the Blue soldier cried. "I don't want to die."

Tex rolled his eyes. Simulation soldiers. The Blue was denied his wish when Cal appeared beside him, landing a kick to his side. It was strong enough to send the man slamming into the Warthog, even leaving a dent. the turquoise soldier slumped to the ground, limp.

"You know what? That's it! We just got that thing!" the orange soldier yelled, raising his assault rifle.

He fired at Cal, only for the Freelancer to leap out of his line of fire and close the distance between them. The expert soldier grabbed the man's head, sending it right into his knee. The Red grunted and went still. In less than a minute, all the simulation soldiers were terminated.

"Well," Tex commented, relaxing. "That was ea-"

He was interrupted when he saw something in his peripheral vision and heard a clanging sound at his feet. The Freelancer glanced down, only to see a primed grenade.

"Oh, sh-"

His curse was cut off when a clap of thunder drowned him out. A screen of dirt and fire filled Tex's vision and he felt his limbs twisted together as his body slammed into something hard multiple times. Suddenly the dirt disappeared, replaced by a clear blue sky above her. It took him a minute to register his back was on the ground, his head still spinning. The muted, ringing noise in his head suddenly became sharp as the coms system in his helmet pierced his hearing.

"TEX!" Cal shouted.

Tex groaned, trying to get up. Suddenly Cal was by his side, offering a hand. He reluctantly took it, allowing his partner to pull him to his feet.

"Nice throw, Church," Wilson shouted as he cocked his pistol, running at the Freelancers.

Church didn't reply. Instead he dropped to one knee and pressed his sniper rifle to his shoulder, looking down the scope at Cal's head. The Freelancer rolled out of the way just as Church pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed by Cal's back and hit the ground, spraying dirt a few feet into the air. He quickly rolled to his feet and threw himself behind the Warthog. Church growled and got back to his feet. Wilson charged forward, his pistol aimed at Tex. He shot at the black soldier five times but the Freelancer followed Cal behind the Warthog, successfully dodging the bullets as they flew through the space his head previously occupied.

"Shit," Cal cussed as Tex slammed into the vehicle. "Those guys were trained well. What the hell are they doing in a simulation ground?"

"How should I know?" Tex asked, her voice no longer gravely but distinctly female. The _woman_ started in shock. "Ah, damn, my distorter is broken."

"Uh, guys?" a voice said over the radio of the vehicle behind them. "Are you there? Sarge? Grif? This is Private Donut. Did you guys find Snyder?"

"Give up," Church shouted from a few yards away. "You're cornered with nowhere to go. But we're willing to cut you some slack. Just give us our friend and we'll let you go."

"You can do whatever you want to the Red guys. We don't really care what happens to them," Wilson called out.

"Yeah, I figured," Tex shrugged.

"I heard that!" Lancaster snapped, even though it came as a moan.

"What was that?" Church asked.

"Fuck you," Tex shouted, recognizing his voice.

"Wait? Tex?" Church asked

Before Tex could reply, she heard a loud rumbling coming from where Church and wilson stood. She peered over the top of the Warthog to see Church and Wilson no longer looking at Cal and her hiding place. Instead they were staring at the tank that was driving haphazardly towards them. As the tank neered, Tex heard an excited voice shout out from the cockpit of the tank.

"Hi, guys," Caboose shouted as he accidentally drove the tank into a rock. He looked at the control panel. "No, not that that way, go backwards." He looked back at his teammates as the tank backed up. "I heard shooting so I brought the tank. This is a nice tank."

Instead of being relieved, everyone froze as the barrel pointed towards them. And Caboose was the last person Church would trust at the wheel of such a powerful weapon. He and Wilson cursed at the same time.

"Oh, fuck…"

YSS-1000 Sabre starship is a jet like thing from Halo: Reach for all of you who care


	2. Chapter 2: Divided we Fall

**Red Vs Blue: Legacy of the Lost**

Episode Two: Divided We Fall

Disclaimer and announcements: This story is co-opted with The-Stupidest-Author-Ever and any OCs you see are hers. We do not own Red Vs Blue but are simply messing around with its plot and characters.

A frigid gale blew through the air, cooling the already below-freezing temperatures by twenty degrees. A thick layer of snow covered the ground, as well as a layer of ice that froze anything it touched. The pitch-black sky of night stretched in all directions, a half-moon illuminating the darkness. No other stars shone, despite it was a crystal-clear night. The lights of the base hid them from sight.

A dying groan sounded as a corpse of a soldier at he collapsed onto the ground. A metal boot stomped beside his head, crunching in red-stained snow.

"Another one bites the dust," a woman in dark red armor sneered, her voice muffled by the helmet she wore. She twisted a serrated combat knife in her hand, the blade dripping with the fallen man's blood.

"Woah, why'd you do that?" a man in blue armor asked, shocked at his teammate's brutality.

"He bored me," the red-armored woman answered. "And he didn't have any information I liked."

"Come on," a man in dark green armor said from behind the two. "The boss is waiting for us. We need to move." The man in blue armor glanced at his female companion before following the rest of the squad as they continued on with their mission.

* * *

"Oh, _fuck,_ " Church swore as the turret on the tank turned to face him and Wilson.

"Move!" Wilson shouted as he dived to the left.

Church immediately dove to the right as Caboose accidentally fired the tank cannon. Tex cringed and ducked back behind the Warthog as dirt flew into the air from the impact. Cal followed her example, diving behind the vehicle with her.

"Great," Tex growled after a few seconds of silence. "Now we have an idiot at the wheel of a tank. What else could go wrong?"

"Caboose! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Church cried as he and Wilson hid behind a boulder.

"I-I don't know what's going on!" Caboose shouted as the barrel of the tank turned to follow the Blues. "No not them, don't shoot them. Shoot the black people. Bad tank!"

"Ugh, that's racist!" Tucker groaned as he painstakingly tried to push himself up.

"Tucker! Get out of the way, you moron!" Church yelled at him.

"What are you-?" The younger Blue was cut off when he noticed the tank looming over him. "Oh, fuckberries…"

As quickly as he could, he leaped to his feet, sprinting towards his comrades. Wilson was waving madly from behind the giant boulder. Both he and Church ducked behind it, Tucker diving to join them. Meanwhile, Sarge climbed to his feet, stumbling and groaning. He failed to notice Caboose directly behind him or the tank's barrel pointed at his back. Instead, the Red immediately noticed at the desperately fleeing Blues.

"Aha! Take that you filthy Blues!" he hollered triumphantly. "Victory is ours!"

Little did he know, the rest of the Reds were recovering, all staring at the beast behind him.

"Uh… Sarge, I wouldn't be so sure…" Lancaster whined, still clutching his leg.

"Huh? What makes you say that?" Sarge asked, looking at his comrades.

"Look behind you, sir," Simmons said, pointing at Caboose. Confused, the Red commander turned around and stared at the idiot Blue.

"Oh, boy..." the Red commander said before Simmons broke the silence.

"Scatter!" he yelled.

Not needing to be told twice, the Reds ran in all different directions like headless chickens, just as Caboose fired another shell. The dirt flew into the air and the shockwave sent Lancaster to his knees, making him cry out in pain and cuss Simmons for shooting him. Tex and Cal were about to jump out of their hiding spot and shoot everyone in sight, but before they did a pink holographic soldier appeared in front of Cal's face.

" _I calculate a 98% chance that stunning the driver of the tank will avoid further conflict,"_ it said. " _A grenade will be the most effective, but that may injure the driver unnecessarily."_

"I don't have a choice, Omikron," Cal ground out as he peeked over the side of the Warthog.

The barrel of the tank was pointed at the fallen Red, giving the Freelancer a chance. He jumped over the truck, Tex following suit. They sprinted at a frightening speed towards the tank, but it noticed them. Without warning it turned its cannon at them and fired, forcing the duo to break their formation and desperately dodge the attack. The shockwave knocked the Reds back down, provoking wails.

"The Blues have outplayed us this time," Sarge called out. "Fall back, men!"

"Don't have to tell me twice," Snyder muttered.

"Lancaster, come on!" Grif called.

The Reds piled onto the Warthog, none of them coming to their comrade's aid. The crimson-armored soldier slowly climbed to his feet, groaning. He limped as fast as he could towards the vehicle, looking like an injured dog. Despite it being overcrowded, he collapsed onboard. Not hesitating, Grif slammed on the accelerator, speeding off towards the Red base.

"You haven't seen the last of us, you rotten Blues!" the Red commander hollered from the passenger seat.

"Yeah, yeah," Church moaned.

"Well, at least they're out of the way," Wilson pointed out optimistically.

"Yeah, except we have an idiot who doesn't know the definition of friendly fire driving our tank, shooting at us!"

"Uh, guys?" Tucker interrupted. When his fellow Blues glanced at him, the turquoise-armored man simply pointed.

The Freelancers were weaving between each other as they zigzagged in front of Caboose, dodging his random attacks with ease. The Blues watched the acrobatics with awe, never seeing such skill before. Ten push-ups was impressive in Blood Gulch.

Without warning, the grey-and-red warrior leaped into the air, a fiery blue sphere in his hand. Flipping mid-jump, he gave an expert toss at the tank. But instead of attaching it to the driver's cockpit, he attached it to the barrel of the tank. Despite the fact that Church was annoyed that Caboose had hijacked their new toy and that his idiocy had nearly gotten them all killed, he shouted a warning to the newest member of Blue team.

"Caboose, get out!" he screamed.

"Oh, no! That's bad!" Caboose wailed. Thankfully the idiot understood the simple order, and was faster than he looked. In a blink of an eye, he leaped out of the tank, sprinting towards the others while screaming like a little girl.

He had just gotten out of range when suddenly the strange grenade detonated. Immediately the barrel disappeared in a combustion of flames, shrapnel going everywhere. By some miracle, Caboose wasn't hit and for some strange reason, the Special Ops soldiers were unfazed.

"Damage critical. Main cannon disabled," a female voice said from the tank.

"Sheila!" Caboose wailed like a child, running back to the tank. "Sheila, are you alright?"

"I am unharmed, Private Caboose. Thank you for asking," the tank replied.

"Did that tank seriously just talk?" Wilson asked aloud, staring wide-eyed at the giant vehicle.

"Heh, now I've seen everything," Cal commented as he placed his fist on his hips, observing the damaged tank that was somehow still functioning. Church ignored them both as he turned to the black-armored soldier, slowing climbing to her feet.

" _Tex_?! What are you doing here?" the Blue demanded.

"Nothing, just passing through the neighborhood," Tex replied, nonchalantly.

"Kicking the shit of me is not 'passing through the neighborhood,'" Tucker spat.

"You got in the way. That's your fault, not mine."

"Yeah, surprised you didn't kill him, considering last time," Church growled.

"Last time?" Wilson echoed.

"You know, you should be thanking me for that," Tex pointed out, almost innocently.

" _Thanking_?" Church exclaimed. "You killed my entire base!"

"But I didn't kill _you_. And besides, I could have easily killed your little sidekick over there, but I didn't."

"Sidekick?!" Tucker echoed, offended. Wilson interrupted before his comrade could go on a rant.

"Church, what are you talking about?" the green soldier asked.

"Ugh," Church groaned, no interest in wasting time telling a story. "Okay, short version is that before I was posted here, I was stationed at Sidewinder. One day, everything was quiet, we were just hanging out, talking about the kids and how miserably fucking cold it was. You know, the usual crap. And then out of nowhere-"

"Aliens came down and abducted everyone!" Caboose shouted excitingly, interrupting.

"What? No."

"There was a bunny!"

"Please shut up." Church sighed

"Then I came and killed everyone," Tex decided to finish. "But because I was in a good mood that day, I spared Church."

"Good mood?" Church echoed. "Yeah, try saying that to the guy you beat to death with his own skull."

"How is that physically possible?" Tucker asked.

"That's what he said!"

"Look, as much I love going down memory lane, I don't really like hanging out in the open," Cal interrupted. "Those Red soldiers are going to be pretty upset. We should brace for a counterattack."

"Are-are you kidding?" Church snorted. "Do they look like they could do any real damage?"

"Yes," Cal deadpanned "Should they fix their Warthog they might be able to do some damage."

"Wait, what do you mean 'we?'" Tucker asked crossly. "There is no way in hell we're letting you come back with us to Blue Base."

"Oh, really?" Tex asked pointedly. "Cause I already watched you get the shit beaten out of you one time today. Care to make it two?"

"Fuck you, lady," Tucker said defiantly.

"How about we all just calm down," Cal said, waving his hands.

"How about we put a bullet in your ass then watch you run away," Wilson said before pausing. "God, I've been around those Reds too much-I'm starting to sound like their commander."

"That did sound like Sarge," Tucker said.

"Ooh ooh! He's sounds like a pirate!" Caboose shouted from behind Church, jumping up and down.

"Is It bad that I already hate this guy?" Church asked Tucker.

"Bet I started hating him before you," the Blue replied.

"Um, hello!" Cal shouted, interrupting them again. "Back to the matter at hand. we're stationed here and you're outnumbered. we can't leave until we get new orders and you guys need some backup. So, how about we join forces and we all be friends?"

"YES!" Caboose approved.

"Caboose, shut up," Church ordered over his shoulder before looking at Cal. "And why should we trust you? We just met you. And you-" He turned to Tex. "You killed my last team. How do I know you're not going to do it again?"

"Well, it's going to be boring here if everyone is dead," Tex pointed out. "If I help you guys, I might get some profit out of it. And let's face it-you guys suck at this. You obviously need our help."

"Gah, fine. Whatever. You can come," Church huffed.

"So we can come?" Tex inquired.

"That's what I just said," he growled. "Now hurry up before I change my mind."

The Private First Class turned on his heel and stalking back towards Blue Base. The Freelancers exchanged glances and shrugged, but followed his lead. The rest of the Blues followed, wondering if their leader had gone off the deep end.

* * *

"Those filthy blues," Sarge ranted as he paced back and forth in Red base. "Turning our own backup against us. Diabolical."

He kicked a crate, sending its contents flying against the wall. Grif, who had been taking a nap against said wall, jumped up in panic and quickly snapped awake.

"Yessir," he quickly said before looking around quickly, "what are we talking about?"

"Actually, sir," Simmons started before Sarge glared at him.

"I. Don't. Want to hear it, soldier," Sarge growled. "Those Blues stole our allies. I say we go steal them back."

"That's a great idea, Sarge," Lancast said sarcastically as he limped into the room with bandages for his leg. "And while we're at it we can get our asses kicked, again, and possibly die. This is the best idea I've ever heard."

"Not to mention that we can't even touch the Blues without the Warthog," Donut said as he looked at the nearly totaled jeep. "And I have no idea how to fix it."

"Snyder, Simmons, give me some good news," Sarge commanded.

"Um," Snyder looked around. "Lancaster's leg is healing?"

"That's not good news! The only good news that could come out of that is if Lancaster's leg were somehow healing in a way that eventually killed him… and Grif," Sarge said, starting to calm down.

"Um, okay," Simmons replied, glancing at Snyder

"Oh, I know!" Sarge exclaimed "Okay men, here's what we're going to do..."

* * *

"And here are your quarters," Church said, gesturing to the ground underneath the tank.

"You're kidding, right?" Cal deadpanned.

"Nope," Church said proudly, grinning underneath his helmet. "This is the only spot we have for you. Hope you don't sleep naked."

"Anyway," Tucker snickered. "I have guard duty-I better get on that." He walked away, laughing under his breath.

"Oh... oh... I will help you," Caboose said, running after the turquois soldier. Cal looked at the retreating forms of the Blue soldiers then looked at church.

"You _are_ joking right?" he asked, his tone uncertain.

"Nope, I'm dead serious," Church said, still smiling under his helmet. "Well, I think I'll let you two get settled in."

With that, the cobalt soldier walked into the base to help Wilson clean up the storage room. Cal looked at the tank then at the base. Tex sighed and sat down. Her black armor glinted in the bright light that was ever present in the rocky canyon, reflecting onto the tank. This was all fucked up. She had expected to be retrieving an AI fragment like Omega. But no, she was sent to retrieve the Alpha, the AI that she had set free and saved during the collapse of Project Freelancer. This was just her luck.

"What are you thinking about?" Cal asked as he slid down next to her.

"Nothing," she replied shortly, getting up and walking away from the tank.

" _It appears that she is haunted,"_ Omikron whispered to Cal, appearing beside his head in a flash of bright light. " _I suggest talking to her."_

"Do I look like I want to get my head shot open?" Cal replied tersely.

" _I was simply trying to help all those we are involved with,"_ Omikron replied.

"Not now, Omikron," Cal sighed as he walked away from the tank in the opposite direction as his partner.

* * *

"Reyes," a man in sickly green armor snapped. Behind him, a small figure in blue armor flinched at his call. "Get over here. See what you can get from this guy."

" _Si, señor_ ," a small male voice replied.

The older man moved aside as a blue-armored soldier came over. The green soldier stood with his hands on his hips as the younger one, Jaime Reyes, knelt down over a bloody corpse. Another kill. Reyes ignored the gaping hole in the soldier's chest, the armor plating burned away. It was thanks to the pair of glowing pistols clipped to the green-armored man.

Reyes pulled out a small screen from his belt, the device immediately glowing a light blue when he turned it on. He pulled a knife from its sheathe connected to it. Not hesitating, he buried it in the corpse's skull with a wet noise. He glanced down at the screen as it immediately reacted to the action.

"What are you doing?" the green soldier asked

"The brain is still alive for a few minutes after the body dies," the medic explained. "This device can translate the electrical currents passing through sensory neurons and read levels of neurotransmitters to create a photographic image."

"And in English?" his partner drawled.

"I can look through his memories."

"Why couldn't you just say that?"

Jaime sighed underneath his helmet. For brutal killers, it sometimes annoyed him he was the only one with advanced knowledge. As he watched images flash across the screen, he heard another set of footsteps nearing. He glanced over his shoulder to see a woman in blood-red armor. Her metallic sniper rifle was strapped to her back, the weapon pulsating with fiery energy, lighting the darkness.

"Reyes, Monroe, how are things over here?" she barked.

"Little Einstein almost has a location," Monroe reported. "Did you talk to our new friends, Barnett?"

Reyes heard a muffled thud on the ice, making him look back to see a disembodied head on the ground.

"They didn't like me very much," Barnett shrugged, her voice mocking. Monroe chuckled while Reyes looked back to his work. Random images of the victim's subconscious flickered on the screen. He ignored the warnings flashing on the edge of the screen, stating the brain activity was rapidly decreasing. Come on, where- Ah ha!

Finally Reyes found the images he was looking for. That soldier's last location before coming to this frozen hell. It wasn't what he was expecting. In fact, the images were showing a terrain the exact opposite of frozen landscape.

Reyes's screen was filled with lush green trees, most likely tropical. A raging waterfall dominated a cliffside behind the jungle, gleaming in the brilliant sunlight. Suddenly the scenery was replaced by lifeless, plain walls. Figures of other soldiers took up the screen, followed by maze-like corridors. Must be a military base. Good, they got something.

"Do you have a location?" Barnett questioned, getting tired of waiting.

"Looks like they have a base set up in some type of tropical zone," Reyes reported.

"Have to be more specific," Monroe drawled.

"Sh!" Reyes hissed as he concentrated on his screen.

The technician continued to watch the feed. He squinted to make out the images as they became distorted and the screen flashed with warnings. The brain was about to die. Then, without warning, the screen went black. But not before Reyes saw a picture of a sign above highway, painted with a city's name.

"New Mombasa," he read. "The base is near New Mombasa, Africa."

* * *

"How much longer?" Church called down from the roof of the base.

"Well, I'd have to say about the same as when you asked me that question five minutes ago," Tex replied as she tightened a bolt underneath the tank.

"Just to let you know, it's not as easy as it looks to repair a tank that was blown to bits by a grenade," Cal pointed out as he worked on wielding the barrel back together.

"Well, next time, don't blow it to bits with a grenade!" Church yelled back. With a groan, the Blue turned to Wilson and Tucker, who were also on the roof. Wilson had relieved Caboose from guard duty, since the idiot was more interest crying over "Shiela," than actually focusing on sentry. "Any signs of the Reds?"

"Nope," Wilson reported.

"Nada," Tucker confirmed, looking down the sight of his DMR. "Come on, it's the Reds. You really think—"

He was interrupted when a clinking sound came from his feet. He didn't move an inch, even as Wilson gave a shout of fright and Church stared in horror. Even though Tucker didn't move, he was well aware of the frag grenade thrown at him.

"Oh, shi—" he cursed, only to be cut off by an explosion.

Tucker screamed as he was thrown against the wall in a cloud of debris. Before anyone could react, bullets filled the air as gunfire roared from the hills.

"Take cover!" Wilson screamed as he dived for shelter.

"You guys had _one_ job!" Church roared in anger, although he did likewise.

Meanwhile, Tex and Cal rushed out and off of the tank to join their new comrades behind the barricades of the base. In a moment's notice, all of them were pinned as the Reds open fired from their positions from the constant stream of fire from the turret of the Warthog.

"Suck it, Blues!" Simmons yelled as he rotated the turret towards the Blue team.

"For the glory of our fathers' fathers!" Sarge screamed, jumping out of the passenger seat with his shotgun at the ready.

"Nowhere to hide, assholes!" Lancaster called.

"I told you they could be a threat," Cal said as he ducked behind a wall.

"Shut it, Cal," Church snapped as he aimed his sniper at Sarge's head. However before he could take a shot, Simmons aimed the turret at him, forcing the Blue to duck back behind his cover. "Fuck!"

Suddenly the shooting stopped and Sarge stepped onto the turret platform. Simmons took out an assault rifle and pointed it at Tucker's hiding spot behind a rock that was in front of Blue base. Snyder pointed his dual submachine guns at Wilson who was hiding behind the raised portion of the roof.

"Attention, dirtbags," Sarge yelled. "We are here to negotiate the terms of your surrender."

"Go fuck yourself," Wilson called, peeking his head out from behind the wall. Snyder shot at him and the Blue yelped and ducked back behind the wall.

"We'll take that as a 'no' then," Sarge said as he hopped down from the turret. "Okay, Simmons, prepare to open fire."

"Yes, sir!" Simmons cheered as the machine gun fire started back up again.

"Yo, Mr. and Mrs. Badass, mind giving us a hand?" Church demanded.

"Now you're talking," Tex purred.

Unfazed by the hail of bullets, she leaped from her hiding spot, only to disappear midair as she activated her camouflage. She ran back to the tank and hopped in. She and Cal had fixed enough to make the tank move, but other than that it was useless. But the Reds didn't know that. She started up the massive vehicle and rolled it out to the front of the base.

"Oh… boy," Donut whined.

"Wait, I thought it was broken!" Lancaster wailed.

"Shut it, numbnuts," Sarge commanded. "Today we fight with honor, unless your name is Grif… or Lancaster, then you fight in the hopes that you might die to give your comrades time to win the fight… preferably after you're dead." As Sarge was ranting, Tex drove the tank right up to him and pointed the cannon at his face.

"Keep talking," she said through the speaker. "I'll make it quick."

"Scatter!" Snyder shouted.

With that, the Reds once again ran in all different directions like headless chickens, sprinting for cover. During their attack on the Blue base, they had completely exposed themselves, leaving them vulnerable for the tank's wrath. Grif and Lancaster let out high-pitched screams of fear while Snyder let out a ridiculous yell. Donut was wailing as he sprinted for a nearby rock. Sarge, however, remained in his spot, glaring at the tank defiantly before he turned to his subordinates.

"Grif, Lancaster! Get over here and die so that I can win this fight for the glory of the Red Army!" he shouted.

"No, you got it! Go ahead for us!" Lancaster's disembodied voice called out.

"I honestly hate you," Grif deadpanned as he hid behind a rock.

"Cowards," Sarge growled He turned to the tank. "Come on, give it your best shot! I'm ready for ya."

"He does know that the tank is pointed right at him, right?" Wilson asked Tucker from the base.

"I think that, on some level, he just doesn't care," Tucker replied.

They all braced for Sarge to blasted to smithereens as the Reds dared to peek around their covers and even the Blues cringing. However, instead of a sky-high explosion, the tank was silent and unmoving, still pointing at Sarge's chest.

"Eh, what's going on?" Snyder questioned.

"Come on, God, quit teasing me. Take him out!" Grif yelled, praying towards the sky.

"Wait, the tank's still must be busted!" Simmons realized with glee.

"Oh, fuck…" Church and Wilson groaned.

"Great…" Cal sighed.

"Uh, oh," Tucker whined.

"Fuck. Me. Backwards," Tex swore.

Realizing her bluff was exposed, she opened the cockpit hatch. As soon as it opened, she leaped out and landed a double kick at Sarge. The man let out a loud grunt as she slammed into his chest, sending him crashing onto the ground. The momentum sent the Red's shotgun flying into the air, allowing Tex to snatch it.

"Not again!" Simmons wailed.

Tex smiled underneath her helmet, leveling her newly acquired weapon at the Red. Before she could fire, however, a shot rang out and Simmons spun like a top, his left shoulder plate now dented as he yelled in shock. Tex looked up to see Church kneeling with his rifle pointed at where Simmons had previously stood. Simmons stopped spinning and shook his head a little to clear his dizziness. He looked to see who had shot him only to get shot a few feet back by another shot by Church, again not dealing any real damage. Tex growled and then leveled the shotgun at Grif. Several more shots rang out and Grif stumbled back as his chest plate was riddled with bullets with no accuracy whatsoever. Tucker lowered his gun and looked to see if he had defeated his target.

"Aha! Take that, Reds!" Wilson shouted as he raised his gun to join the fight.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Tex shouted, trying to line up a solid shot on one of the Reds.

"Helping you," Church answered as he lined up another shot on Simmons. "What the hell do you think we're doing?"

"You're getting in my way!"

She finally took aim at Simmons, who had finally gotten back on his feet. However, before she could pull the trigger, the Red noticed Wilson was aiming at him. With a yelp, the man leaped behind a rock, having both Tex and Wilson's bullets only meet air.

"Godda-" the Freelancer tried to curse, only to be cut off as Sarge tackled into her.

She let out a yelp as she fell onto her back, but before the larger man could settle his weight on her to pin her down, the soldier planted her feet onto his chest. With a strong kick, she sent him flying back. In the same motion, Tex leaped to her feet. She turned to where Cal was peeking out of his shelter.

"Cal, get over here!" She called.

"Right!" He replied. Before running over, he glanced up at the Blues. "Do you mind holding your fire?"

"Why would we do that?" Tucker demanded.

"Because I don't want to get shot, please."

Without another word, the Freelancer pulled out his assault rifle and sprinted over to Tex.

"But we're not team killing fucktards," Tucker complained as the Freelancer sprinted away. "All we do is incapacitate the enemy."

"JUST STOP SHOOTING!" Cal yelled back.

"Come on, men, it's time to fight the enemy like we were born to do!" Sarge yelled.

"No, thanks, I'm good," Grif called back.

"That would ruin my manicure," Donut called out.

The Red soldiers were hiding behind a boulder, having only their disembodied voice fill the air. Sarge glanced to his left to see that Simmons had disappeared, leaving him alone against the two Freelancers.

"Ah, shit," he said before the dark soldiers engaged him in combat.

Tex lunged first, landing a sucker punch at the man's stomach. When he doubled over, the soldier slid behind him and landed a powerful kick to his rear, sending him flying forward, right into Cal. The Freelancer grabbed the sergeant's shoulders and snapped his knee into the victim's visor. The action snapped the Red's head back and he crumpled onto the ground, moaning.

"Well, that was easy," Cal shrugged.

"Think again, asshole!" Snyder's voice called out.

Cal glanced up to see the yellow soldier leaping off the boulder, lunging for the black soldier, screaming ridiculously. Instead of flinching away, the Freelancer simply stared. At the last moment when Snyder was about to collide with him, Cal casually took a step back. The Red face-planted on the ground where the Freelancer had once stood, groaning.

"Nice try," Cal piped.

"Thanks," Snyder moaned as he stood up.

"Next time pay attention to your surroundings."

While Cal was smiling underneath his helmet at the event, Tex walked up to the Red and rolled her eyes. These soldiers were total idiots. How the soldier had not noticed her was a mystery to her.

"Wuh?" Snyder said before Tex slammed her fist into the side of his helmet. He groaned and crumpled like his commanding officer.

"Laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?" Tex asked as she turned to face the other Reds another time.

"He bought it, didn't he?" Cal asked returning to the fight as well. Both Freelancers stepped into a sprint, racing towards Simmons and Grif's rocks.

"Uh, oh," Simmons whined when he noticed them and realized he could not run away in time.

He grunted as Tex slammed into him, kneeing his gut. At the same time, she snatched his arm and twisted until he let out a wail of pain. She pitied his misery by letting go, but at the same time throwing him to the ground. Meanwhile, Cal ran up onto the boulder Grif was hiding behind, pausing at the top. The orange-armored soldier failed to notice the action as he was cowering behind the shelter. He dared to peek around, only to let out a sigh of relief when he noticed the coast was clear. That was until he heard a scraping sound above him.

With a gasp, Grif glanced up to see Cal staring down at him. The Freelancer tilted his head with a shrug before leaping off the rock. Grif didn't have a chance to react as the taller man slammed onto his chest, pinning him to the ground. The grey and red soldier cocked a fist back to send it into the victim's head, but then he noticed a flash in the corner of his eye.

Thanks to his ability to react in nanoseconds, the Freelancer rolled off of Grif, just in time to avoid a bullet from Lancaster's DMR. The Red was lying a few feet away and moved his gun to follow the dark soldier.

"Hey, fuckface!" Lancaster shouted, shooting again. "Leave the idiot alone!"

"Oh, thank God," Grif sighed as the Freelancer rolled away.

Cal rose into a crouch, away from Grif and Lancaster, simultaneously pulling out a pistol. He opened fired at Lancaster, whom he saw as a bigger threat. With a muttered curse, the Red jumped up and ducked behind the Warthog. However, Cal kept firing, his bullets shooting up plumes of dirt and dust. Lancaster pressed his back to the side of the vehicle, pulled out a magazine from his belt.

"I told Sarge this was a bad idea," the man muttered as he reloaded his weapon.

Just as he finished, the claps of gunfire went silent, replaced by clicks coming from Cal's pistol. The man glanced down at his empty weapon and scowled. He threw away the useless weapon, looking up just in time to see Lancaster aiming his weapon at him again. Reacting just as quickly as before, the Freelancer leaped away, jumping to a roll. Lancaster sent bullet after bullet at him, even daring to step out of his cover.

Cal easily dodged the bullets, getting onto his feet before lunging towards the ground again. However as he planted his palms on the gravel, the soil shifted, along with Cal's arms. The man yelped as he lost his balance and crashed onto the ground with a wheeze.

"Not so tough now, huh, asshole?" Lancaster mocked.

Instead of replying, Cal lay on the ground, blinking in confusion. What just-? He _never_ made a mistake. There was no way he slipped so easily. No, he had _felt_ something underneath his hands. It was like the ground _moved_. The realization slowly dawned on the Freelancer. Something was wrong, and there were only a handful of reasons why the earth would move on its own.

* * *

"Guys?" Caboose called out as he stumbled around in the storage room with another box over his head. "It's dark in here. Can you open the door, please?"

He had heard the sounds of combat as he was standing in the corner like his best buddy Church had told him to, so he went to go help them. Unfortunately he had gotten lost in the base and had stumbled into the storage room where he had met his other best buddy Wilson. He had tripped over a set of boxes and had gotten a box stuck onto his head again. This place was full of mean little boxes. They kept tripping him. Maybe he should talk to Church about removing them before they attacked him in his sleep. That would be bad. Caboose stumbled around and tripped again.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Bad boxes!"

As he got up, the box fell off of his head. He smiled and rushed out of the room to help his team. Only when he did, the ground shifted, making him trip on his feet. He wailed in pain as he landed on his face.

"Why did you do that, floor?" he whined. Now the floor was being mean?

The young man slowly lifted himself up, rubbing his sore head. Caboose glanced down, only to see a sizeable crack in the floor, about as long as he was tall.

"Uh, was that there before?" he wondered aloud.

Before he could ponder on it any further, he heard a rumble filling the air. He looked around to see the boxes moving on their own, like someone was shaking them. Oh, the boxes were doing it!

"Stop it, boxes!" Caboose yelled at them. "Stop being mean!"

Then the floor _moved_. The Blue yelped as the ground shifted underneath him, making him lose his balance. He crashed onto his face again, making him let out a louder yell. However, he could still feel the ground moving beneath him, shifting and sliding. Where were all these cracks coming from?

Caboose scrambled to his feet, waving his hands for balance. He ran out of the room yelling in panic. Just as he exited the room he heard a thundering boom come from the floor. He turned around and watched as the floor opened up and started to eat the mean little boxes. Caboose threw his hands up into the air and cheered.

"Yay! Good job floor! You ate all of the mean boxes!"

The floor was apparently very hungry, as it started to eat the rest of the room as well. Its mouth kept growing and growing until it had consumed the entire room, leaving a pitch-black hole.

"Um, you can stop now," Caboose said a little worriedly. The hole stopped growing and Caboose smiled. "Good hole. Oh I know, I'll call you 'Blacky!' Oh, Church will be so pleased to meet you! I'll go get him!"

With that Caboose ran out of the base, looking for his best buddy, unaware that the black hole had started to expand again and was now steadily growing as the ground continued to collapse, taking the base with it.

Even more unaware of the coming danger were the Reds and Blues, who were still in combat with the Freelancers. Or more like the Reds were being dominated by the pair of super soldiers, as the Blues casually watched from their view from the top of the base.

"It's so beautiful…" Wilson sighed in content as their long-time rivals' whines of pain reached them.

"Want me to go get popcorn?" Tucker offered. "Looks like we got a while to go."

Instead of sharing his comrades' zeal, Church was growling in frustration.

"This is useless," he ranted. "We're just _sitting here_. We should be out there helping her."

"Well, it looks like she doesn't need it," Wilson pointed out. "Plus Cal's with her. She's fine."

Instead of responding, the commander officer glared at the grey and red Freelancer, who was in a hand-to-hand fight with one of the Reds. Landaster? Whatever. The Blue was more concerned about Tex's partner. He didn't know what it was, but something about the man rubbed him in the wrong way.

"Ugh, you guys stay here," Church ordered, looking over his shoulder. "I'll going to help them."

"They really don't need it but whatever you say," Wilson commented, watching as the fellow Blue leaped off the roof and sprinted into the battle. However, just as he left, Caboose came onto the roof from inside the base. Wilson automatically groaned when he noticed the annoying man.

"What is it, Caboose?" he groaned. "Aren't you supposed to be making sure the boxes don't make any more trouble?"

"Oh, don't worry! Blacky took care of them," Caboose reported.

"What?" Wilson asked, turning around.

"Yeah, the boxes kept attacking me and kept pulling the floor out from under me, but Blacky ate them all up."

Wilson and Tucker exchanged bewildered glances. They knew Caboose was _really_ thick-headed, but now he was making no sense whatsoever. Tucker turned to him.

"Caboose… did you take anything?" he asked the idiot.

"Well, don't please please please don't tell Church, but I did take a nap. It was really nice, I dreamt about my mom, and my new friends."

"That's not-"

Tucker was interrupted when suddenly the ground rumbled. Both men stumbled as the roof swayed and several small cracks appeared beneath their feet.

"What the-" Tucker tried to curse, but cut off to exchange another glance at Wilson.

Both soldiers stared at each for several long seconds before they said simultaneously, "Oh, no…"

Tex didn't feel the quake as she was too busy landing a series of punches into Donut. The Red stumbled away, dazed from the attacks. The woman was just about to land a kick into his groin when suddenly a blue wall slammed into the Red soldier, sending him flying. Tex watched her to-be victim crash onto the ground, looking up to see Church where Grif once stood.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded through a yell.

"Helping you!" Church snapped.

"I don't need help."

Before Church could reply, he felt himself falling towards the ground. He opened his hands to catch himself, landing onto his palms, but then he _kept_ falling. What?

"Church!" Tex's voice growled, but it sounded muffled.

After that, all the man heard was a thundering rumble and cracking sounds surrounding him. Without warning, the sun disappeared, replaced by darkness, dirt, and racing air as he fell into a bottomless abyss.


End file.
